


choir

by Waywarder



Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Holding Hands, I Only Have Stories To Tell About Them Holding Hands at Shows, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: In which Crowley finds a seasonal song he can appreciate.Part of Drawlight's 31 Days of Ineffables challenge!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558789
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	choir

It was really rather remarkable what kissing Aziraphale regularly had done to change Crowley’s tune about Christmastime in general. He liked things that made Aziraphale happy, after all, and he could finally be flagrantly unsubtle about it. So, he frightened some poinsettias into shape until they were fit to bring to the bookshop, he popped into little bakeries to procure gingerbread biscuits for Aziraphale, he agonized over what he would actually give Aziraphale for Christmas proper… Crowley was all in on his holiday nonsense.

But he just couldn’t deal with the music.

Crowley loathed Christmas music. He found traditional carols to be a combination of cloying and boring, and modern Christmas tunes were needlessly upbeat and repetitive. They just weren’t very good songs, in his humble opinion. And, worst of all, they were fucking everywhere. 

So, when Aziraphale wanted to go see the holiday chorus concert at the nearby high school where they had inexplicably become regular arts patrons, Crowley agreed, because he knew it would make Aziraphale happy, but he also steeled himself for the absolute worst. How bad would it be to demonically sneak a bottle of wine into a high school chorus concert, he wondered? Pretty bad? Probably pretty bad.

Sure enough, the concert began with all the classics that he despised: “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” fucking “Jingle Bell Rock.” It was awful. The students in the chorus were talented, sure, and he could appreciate that, but ugh. 

During the applause break after some horrendous piece about fruitcake, Crowley grabbed the little paper program in Aziraphale’s lap, eager to find out how much more they had to sit through. He frowned as he checked the program.

“What’s this next one?” he hissed a little.

Aziraphale peered over at the program. Oh, and the smile that came over his face was just glorious, the absolute nerd. He squeezed Crowley’s hand excitedly.

“You’ll like this one,” he assured Crowley. 

A young girl strode to center stage, trembling just a touch with nerves. Now it was Crowley’s turn to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand. He knew how soft the angel was over the performing arts kids here. He knew how hard Aziraphale longed for their comfort and happiness. Crowley sighed, mildly frustrated by his own affection.

Yeah, alright. He’d give this next song a chance.

_“When the mountain touches the valley  
All the clouds are taught to fly  
As our souls will leave this land most peacefully  
Though our minds be filled with questions  
In our hearts we’ll understand  
When the river meets the sea”_

And you already know what happens next. Because it is a beautiful song (one of the most beautiful, in fact), and Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand, and like all of the rest of us lovestruck, soft bastards, they each heard their story within the lyrics, and tears of, yes, river and seawater shone in their eyes. 

The point, my friends, is this: love in the open, hold hands at the high school holiday choir concert, let puppet otters melt your wobbly heart, and be proud and unafraid of who you are, and who you love, and of all the things that have the capacity to wreck you. You were made to be unmade and remade over and over, because nothing has ever been wrong with you. 

And, unforgivable demon that he was, Anthony J. Crowley, holding a soft angel’s hand and crying over a beautiful song, was beginning to finally believe that for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, if this isn't just the most indulgent little piece of nonsense I've ever committed to print. I am full of feelings today. 
> 
> "When the River Meets the Sea" lyrics by the incredible Paul Williams, of course.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
